The Dhaka Symphony

The Call to Prayer

There I was readers lying there at 5.30 this morning pondering my navel as an old music school teacher would say to me.  Well it was a music class and there was only so much of trying to play the recorder anyone could do before anything became more or less interesting instead.  Anyhow at 5.30 am there is the morning call for prayer and it struck me - do all cities have their own noise?  There own very sound that is unique to them and could be described as their own heartbeat?

Now being located close to the central mosque in Gulshan, means we are in direct 'firing' line for all the call to prayers - yes there are more than one and depending on which mosque it could range from four to seven.  Yes I would like to point out that Madam failed to notice said mosque when she was doing the apartment recce!  Thankfully the call is short and you can nod back off to sleep.

However this morning I noticed in the distance all the other calls from the other mosques and how they were all uniquely different, never mind sounding different and being of a variety lengths.  A short while later there was the occasional bell ringing from rickshaws before the noise built up into rush hour.  With all this in mind and my inner classical musician eagerly waiting to write his first symphony the TS, yours truly indeed reckons he got it written by morning coffee today.  

Here's how it goes:

Movement 1 (Allegro) - Dhaka Awakens

Starts off slow with the call to prayers starting off one by one (in the right key of course) followed by the jingly bells and toots form the Tuk-Tuks.  This then builds up into a fast pace with horns from the cars, bells, toots and generally the fast pace of life of Dhaka.  People missing cars, cars missing cars, cars missing rickshaws etc  People selling tupperware, books (latest edition allegedly, cheaper than you can get elsewhere), maps and even tea towels.  This culminates in a crescendo of sorts to end with the call to prayer (mid-morning one - in the right key and in harmony) and life has begun in Dhaka.

Movement 2 (Adagio) - Life Takes Place
This movement slower to the first, but focusing on the people of Dhaka as they go about their business whilst the bells, toots and horns still take place but are less frenetic.  Again ending with a call to prayer (well it is after lunch you know).

Movement 3 (Scherzo) - The Madness Begins
Starting with the late afternoon call to prayer, the traffic madness begins as the noise is worse than before as everybody is up and contributing to the chaos.  The traffic gets stuck and suddenly a 30 min journey becomes two hours.  The queue of rickshaws looking for fares never mind clogging up the streets is worse at this time.  Again it ends with the call to prayer - early evening.

Movement 4 (Allegro) - Dhaka Slows
The movement starts fast and ends calmly as the day has finished and all the noise subsides ending with a toot toot and the final bell ending the symphony.

So readers - what do you think?  Any takers?  Anyone willing to give a grant to investigate it further?

Only in Dhaka - Rooftop Neon Party

Is that the Doc in the foreground?

Had a surreal moment on Friday night readers.  When normally i would be regaled in my usual tartan attending a Burns Supper (it was the Bard's birthday after all), there I was standing on a rooftop, with the place dressed fantastically in chiffon and lights, and me in my hi-viz vest dancing away at rooftop neon party!  It was a going away party for two dip chums - well that's what they said.


It was a surreal moment with many pushing the boat and wearing something neon.  Even the Doctor was dressed in his day-glo tracksuit which you would more likely see a groom wearing in the east end of Glasgow..  I think someone should check whether he is on medication as the most concerning thing was not that he walked the streets in it and danced around like a loon , but more concerningly he possessed or even got it shipped across from over 5000 miles away from Bonnie Scotland.  They obviously saw him coming in that shop!

What was more surreal, that everyone at the party thought this was normal and only expected such a thing to take place in Dhaka.  One person who will be leaving for other shores in the year stated that Dhaka has a unique charm and madness which is just not replicated elsewhere.  Well readers, on that note who knows what the TS will be attending.  Watch this space....

Reality Starts - Living in Dhaka

Well the day has finally arrived and Madam and I will be moving into the new pad.  I say 'new' loosely as it has been deconstructed, remodelled and rewired.  As well as being a TS (Trailing Spouse), I am now an interior designer, lurve choosing soft furnishings, expert packer of all things (this being the third time we have moved in less than 3 months) and generally the point of contact for all things 'homemaking'.  One concern I do have is that it is actually curtailing the golf activity and going for a swim (honestly - not missing that one - that's exercise), but hopefully normal service shall resume shortly - cannae wait.

Now Madam was running true to form - nothing like consistency and continuity for the TS.  Madam was going away on a business trip - convenient!  I did raise a smile when the drive to the business trip was allegedly curtailed by a small riot and some tear gas - excuses!  Nothing in the press...  Anyhow it was up to yours truly to pack our life - 4 suitcases and a tonne of food.  The move was as painless as can be.  The problem was going to be the following day - the arrival of the heavy baggage.

Day 2 of the move saw 71 boxes of various shapes and sizes magically congregate in the lounge like a pyramid for some god.  Where does one start?  The labels on the box didn't actually match the contents.  The packers offered to unpack which I quickly declined.  I mean I hadn't a clue where I was putting the stuff, so why should I have 6 people asking me in a foreign language where it was going.  On top of that, there were a range of boxes containing crockery etc which follows the Head of Office.  Madam has another thing coming if she thinks I am cooking for 50 people!

What was quickly realised on opening the boxes, was the lack of personal ornaments / object d'art / curios.  Yep the packing was too practical in Glasgow and all that kind of stuff has been left there - typical.  Never mind Madam has now got it into her head that 'we' can go out and buy more stuff - mmmmmm.

So of course when Madam arrived back home, it was mostly all done - what a surprise!  People kept saying it must be like Christmas again, finding stuff you had forgotten you had packed and there it was etc etc.  I look at as a huge sigh of relief - life in Dhaka can actually start now and let reality set in!

PS Just realised a big problem - left the corkscrew in the UK.  It is a double big problem as we are living in a dry country - don't tell Madam until I come up with a plan.

Oncoming Traffic? Easy!

It has reached that stage when the TS (Trailing Spouse) had to fill up the car with petrol.  Now this is no easy task in the demonic driving of Dhaka.  Now most expats have their driver to do the deed and and just basically handover cash, get the receipt and nothing more is said.  Madam has yet to choose a driver hence, I am now learning all the bad habits of survival on Dhaka driving.

Now, having driven for over 20 years, you would think what the heck am I moaning about.  The car is a right  wheeled drive - same as home.  The traffic allegedly drives on the right / correct side of the road and ultimately my car is bigger than the others.  Well fellow readers I wish it was all that simple.

Your first problem as previously mentioned in a previous blog (Traffic) - there are no rules.  If you want to drive up the wrong way on the other side of the road - not a problem.  Rickshaws and Tuk-Tuks do it all the time.  There is no concept of lanes.  For instance the 'motorway' is a three lane road.  On a good day, the traffic might be nice and operate as three lanes but normally its five lanes.  The concept of roundabouts are a new phenomenon  so the question of 'right of way?' is not in their parlance; and most frustrating of all - to get onto the other side of any road, there are no slipways, roundabouts, side roads etc.  No no no -- you just find a gap in the central reservation and do a U-turn.  There is no point having your heart in your mouth, white knuckles on the steering wheel or just panicking.  Just shrug the shoulders and hope for the best is the most appropriate policy.

So after many discussions with people on where the easiest petrol station was to get to, it was time to venture out.  I chose a Friday morning - good call most said - the roads would be quiet!  Dhaka had obviously decided not this time when I was going out.  I found the right break and did my Uy - ok so far.  Identified the petrol station on the other side of the road and duly had to find another break in the central reservation to do another Uy.  Ok so far.  

I duly pulled into the petrol station onto what could be described as a 'forecourt' with a motley crew of cars, tuk-tuks and something described as a minibus.  After lots of pointing and stating what I wanted, I was duly advised that to get to the petrol pump, I would need to exit the 'forecourt', do a u-turn into on-coming traffic and re-enter the petrol station.  A new twist to driving in Dhaka!  All I can say it was a bit touch and go, but thankfully some truck managed to botch up getting round some rickshaw providing the opportunity for a u-turn and then sneak into the forecourt at the petrol pump.  Getting out was just as bad - one had to reverse into oncoming traffic.  Again some rickshaw and a tuk-tuk were having a contra ton leaving a gap for a nifty manoeuvre to escape the 'carnage'.  

Now getting home. Madam, asked how it went and ended up saying 'that's nice dear'.  So when anyone again moans about traffic, try driving into oncoming traffic just to enter a petrol station - I say - Easy!

It’s a Dogs Life

Well we are not in our new abode yet – lots of issues such as having to rewire the place to bring it line with UK electrical standards never mind Bangladeshi ones.  Install air conditioning, actually put a kitchen in to be honest, general maintenance and solving problems which should not have been there from that start.  I was told this was normal when a property is taken over for diplomats etc.  What was more concerning, that this is a brand new building with the paint still wet and all this work still had to be carried out.  I think it is called the joys of design and construction in Dhaka.

Anyhow I digress.  We have a visitor staying this week -  a chocolate Labrador called Minstrel (a bit of typecasting there me thinks).  So why he is staying you cry?  Well, the a Diplomatic colleague needed to go out of town on business and failed to mention to Mrs Diplomatic colleague that she would be going with him.  This resulted in Mr Dc chatting to Madam to see if we could look after the waif for a couple of days.  Madam, of course has been nagging the TS for months / years for a ‘little doglet’ – I know, I cringe as well and please don’t ask.  Delightedly she said yes and then truly informed me.

Minstrel with Rudolph

Well Minstrel arrived on Sunday with his bed (now becoming a floor ornament as he has learnt a bad habit from a previous sleepover elsewhere – the sofa), his food - changed days when I had a dog as a kid.  All it is a bag of biscuits with a touch of water – no tins of dog food etc.  His toys (which included a rather fetching teddy bear like Rudolph the reindeer which he would take with him to bed each night), bowls and a big stick (more later).  Minstrel would be staying the week – Madam failed to tell me.  To just rub salt into the proverbial, Madam was out most evenings this week, so it is up to the TS to entertain, feed, walk and generally be the convivial host for Minstrel.  Now you see why I am have been resisting a ‘little doglet’ – it would be like that all the time.  All aside, he is a big softie and a gorgeous looking dog and of course the TS would be more than willing to look after him whenever – that’s not the point though and don’t tell Madam.  A pretence is needed.

Now walking a dog in Dhaka is an unusual thing.  The only people who have dogs as pets are expats.  Generally the dogs that do exist here are feral and roam the streets – the first problem.  Secondly the pavements don’t generally exist and you have to dodge traffic, rickshaws and tuk-tuks whilst walking, never mind the people who seem to be on the whole, scared of dogs.  The big stick is needed to fend off the stray dogs and kamikaze cats. 

One doesn’t realise the number of dogs roaming the place until they all start coming out of the wood work irrespective of the ones sitting behind gates.  Apart from having another set of eyes, a guard dog would be helpful just to take pooch out for walkies. 

One of the big conundrums I keep asking when walking – do they have any planning law?  You have maisonettes which would be typical in middle England, to some Mediterranean style architecture followed by some hotch potch of something alongside a sleek glass apartment block.  As well as the various construction sites dotted about with their very own breach of health & safety rules as we know it.  This is all within a 12 block area.  So when Minstrel departs at the end of the week, I can honestly say I have seen more of the area and lots more of the weird constructions called houses in Dhaka.  Minstrel of course is oblivious to all of this focussing on the next sniff and where his dinner is coming from – it is true – it is a dog’s life!

Baby Its Cold Outside

Happy New Year and all the best for 2013.  After surviving Malaysia on holiday Madam and I (the TS) arrived back in Dhaka to be confronted with noise, dust, traffic, and general Dhakaness coupled with a severe lack of temperature.  Now being a hardy Scot, this wasn't too much of an issue.  I mean the temperature was probably a dry Scottish summer - I emphasize dry by the way.  However after 30C+ temperatures in Kuala Lumpur, it was a bit of shock.

Since getting back, the TS has had to don his jumper.  Yep it is cold - allegedly the coldest temperature in 45 years  Not bad since Bangladesh has been only in existence since December 1971.  No ice yet and it hasn't stopped me from going in the pool (not heated - why would you) which is akin to the cold plunge at the Western Baths, I hasten to add, but it is a bit nippy.  

The big problem is the current accommodation which is still transit.  That is when they don't know where to put you and they stick you in a holding 'cell' before they have identified the 'right' place or more realistically what they can afford whether it is 'right' or not. Apart from the lack of sun this current place gets (stuck in between 3 construction sites on 3 sides and pointing in the wrong direction on the vacant side), stone floors, myriads of air conditioning units, the flat is colder inside than outside.  Last night, Madam and I were on the sofa under a blanket to watch tv - it is not as romantic as it sounds I can assure you. The things a TS has to dutifully do!  Even our cleaner was saying it was cold, no matter how hard she dusted!  Maybe not hard enough then - anyhow.

When you wonder around, the Dhaka residents have taken to ingenious ways of wearing clothing to keep warm.  If they have them they wear their wooly hat under any official hat they have to wear - definitely not one for the fashionistas amongst you.  If not, then rather than tying their scarf around their neck, it is tied around their head to keep their ears warm.  All that is missing is a tartan shopping trolley, and they wouldn't look out of place with the old dears walking down the street in the UK.

Thankfully Bangladesh has not been hit as hard with the cold weather unlike India where people are dying, but I am not sure how long that will be before it happens here.  This part of the world, they are just not geared up for it, even when it is in the low teens.  So when normally you would scoff at such temperatures, here when they say it is cold, then it is life threatening.  Fingers crossed it warms up and I don't have to keep warming up Madam!

Penang - The Festive Tour of Malaysia

Madam had decided that I needed more immersion into Malaysian culture before Christmas and it was decided (allegedly together) we would go to Penang.  Now the original plan was to fly back to Kuala Lumpur to then fly to Penang.  madness I thought - we could just hop on the ferry and take the trip to Penang from Langkawi which drops off round the corner from our abode.  Oh i wish it was that simple.

The online booking system, was merely a reservation of the ticket.  You had to find the ticket booth and dodge all the stalls selling corn - yes weird I know.  You then get on the 'ferry'.  I use the term loosely as what you see on the website is not what you get.  The concept of health & safety just hasn't been translated here.  All fire exists are blocked with luggage, who knows how many lifebelts they had, if any and god it was bumpy.

Clan Jetties

At last we were in Penang, an island which the British held (WW2) until the Japanese came in behind them (yes it does sound like a panto) and they then thought it prudent to leave asap back to Singapore.  The place is a hotch potch of cultures, nationalities, foods and madness.   You have a 19th Century colonial style St Georges Anglican church sitting close by to a hawker market -  a place selling all types of cuisine.  The budget did not extend to staying at the E&O but we did sample their delights one day - not bad I say.  Another day we went on a mad bus journey (over 90 mins) to see the bottom of the island and the 'war museum'.

Queen Victoria
Diamond Jubilee Clock

Let;s just say an entrepreneurial chappie saw this ruin on top of a hill which used to be the British fortress to defend the island.  It has been turned into a museum, cum paint ball park.  The problem is it isn't really a war museum.  Interesting stuff around but the 30 min hike up the hill to get to the entrance would dampen anyone's enthusiasm.  Fort Cornwallis on the other hand was quiet interesting being the first port of call for the British and how they conducted their foreign policy with trade agreements all round Asia - quite amazing considering most people couldn't do that now a days.

What was amazing was the number of temples everywhere.  Madam seem to have a thing for the temples and  reckoned we could knock most of them off the list.  The most spectacular was the Pinang Peranakan Mansion  Ironically, in a lot of the temples, including the PPM, the iron pillars holding them up were made in Glasgow - ahh.  

Christmas Eve arrived and there was Madam and I standing in Penang airport waiting for our next part of our Festive Tour of Malaysia - Singapore!

Langkawi - The Festive Tour of Malaysia

Madam and I went to Malaysia and Singapore for Christmas and New Year.  3 whole weeks of scintillating conversation with Madam - how will we both cope?  Madam was knacked and needed a break.  2012 was a hard year irrespective of starting a new job as the 'Big Boss' over 5000 miles away, she desperately need a break.  

The itinerary for the 3 weeks - snoozing at a beach resort in Langkawi for 5 days, then taking the ferry to Penang, followed by flying to Singapore for Christmas ending up in Kuala Lumpur for New Year.  In other words just your average little tour of Malaysia.

Langkawi

It was decided to go for a beach resort and after a number of recommendations the Madam & TS went to Berjaya resort.  Now I can say the TS was a wee bit apprehensive having never done a beach holiday, will I cope?  Could I survive the relentless reading of books and sun kissed surf?  Will Madam and I kill each other before the week is out?

Well readers, completely the opposite happened.  I became the proverbial beach bum and Madam was the cat on the hot tin roof, which in fact wasn't really but a wooden chalet in the rain forest.  A decent book, a nice spot on the beach, the occasional dip in the sea - what more could a TS ask for.

One of the highlights of Langkawi, apart from mountain biking and the superb cocktails was taking a trip up the cable car.  In fact two cable cars, as one connects a mountain top to the other.  In addition a sky bridge links two hill tops.  The views were spectacular despite the slight harr or overcastness.  

That was one thing that was regular as clockwork.  At about 3.30ish the wind would pick giving you roughly 30 mins to get under cover before a rainstorm happened.  Sometime sit was short and other times long, but always quite awesome.  The noise in the forest was something else I tell with all the birds and monkeys doing their nut!

Before we knew it the week was nearly over.  Langkawi had saved the pièce de résistance.  As part of  the resort they had a Thai restaurant which sat out over the sea.  

So Madam and I made sure we were there for sunset to sip out fizz and celebrate survival of the first week.  From here on in it was going to be an onslaught on our senses in so many different ways.  Next stop Penang. 

Sunset over Langkawi

Just About to Go On Holiday in 2012

5 Weeks In

I have survived 5 weeks.  That’s why I am writing this from an Airport lounge, as we are off on our hols to Malaysia for 3 weeks over Christmas and New Year.  So what its been like you all cry?  I can hear you – honest – I can.

Just now it is all about survival.  Already we have moved to another transit flat which is dark and quite depressing as our permanent accommodation took a while to find and once found is now basically having to be rewired, replumbed etc – even when it is a brand new building!  The projected move in date is now mid January 2013 – fingers crossed.  Mind you, one thing I have learned.  There is time and then Bangladeshi time.  Don’t hold your breath as you would die of asphyxiation.

This delay has basically meant we have been living with what we have brought in suitcases and whatever food that has been bought since.  An interesting experience I grant you.  Our 72 boxes are in country in a store, but until we get our pad, there is no point delivering them.  I am now starting to think whether that was a wise move or not.  

It did result in a mercy mission to the store to get golf clubs out and the kilt for the Caledonian Ball.  Yep, 5,500 miles away and I am eating smoked salmon from Dunkeld, Haggis from Orkney followed by Aberdeenshire beef and then dancing to a Ceilidh band, specially flown in for the occasion.  Talk about déjà vu or some kind of weird dream.

Life is like living in a village.  The community is small, even though I am meeting new people daily from other Missions etc and no doubt add to the address book as time goes on.  One restrictive factor has been the lack of wheels, which as of today has been resolved.  The diplomatic zone, is pretty straightforward to walk around whilst dodging 4x4, tuk-tuks and rickshaws.  However there is more to Dhaka and a car is essential - I hope.  Hopefully 2013 will see exploratory trips to further afield.

Energy Parallels

Energy Parallels

Reading 'The Independent' (the Bangladeshi one) the editorial was questioning the amount of foreign direct investment, increasing the burden on the people of Bangladesh, but more importantly calling for an energy strategy.  Now where have we heard that before - ah yes the UK.

Strange how a country such as Bangladesh can have very similar parallels as, I hate to say, a developed country.  Jury is still out on that one me thinks.  However, I digress.  Looking at it coldly - the UK's balance of payments is going up increasing overall debt.  Likewise Bangladesh.  The difference - Bangladesh is using OPM (other people's money) as its leverage.  UK, just adding it to the bottom line and hoping for the best.

Secondly, the UK has gone through a series of consultations over the last two years to get to, some would say, a maligned Energy Bill.  The Bill is designed to 'create' investment but define an 'energy strategy' for the remaining years before the lights go out around 2017.  Bangladesh, around two years ago hired in temporary power to stop the lights going off (they still do).  Why the temporary power, due to not having an energy strategy and not investing in modern power plants and ultimately a diverse energy mix.  Realising this, they are using OPM to do this.  Not the best solution.

Bangladesh’s dilemmas either to use all the new oil and gas finds in the Bay of Bengal for the country, export the lot or do a mixture reinvesting the income.  This seems a hard decision to do for the government.  All they have to do is look at the UK and what was done with the North Sea fields from the 70’s and fail to reinvest in it.  Hence the UK trying to design an energy strategy, when the price of energy is rising etc.  In the meantime, they will let foreign companies give them the cash to develop power plants which the company owns etc etc etc

Only if one could look at the other and see how not to do it, then maybe there are strategies rather than parallels for both countries and not the headache that currently exists.

Footnote
Since writing this blog there has been another look at the energy alternatives (30Dec12) - The Energy Scenario - Alternatives

In The News

In the news

Bangladeshi news sometimes is quite funny, absurd, amazing and also downright shocking.  In a lot of cases you might get all of that in the same article. 

Headline - Rotary to eradicate polio from World by 2013.  Brill you cry - it gets better.  In the opening para, the rotary governor states categorically that he wants to 'eradicate police from the world by 2013'.  An amusing Typo, but if the criminal fraternity saw that, the Rotary membership may increase dramatically.

One article which amazed me and was regarding a government policy in regards to new build housing.  This is where G8 and the UK could stop and listen.  The law was changed a couple of years ago, in that any new build apartment / house could not obtain an electricity connection until they had installed solar panels on the roof of the property.

Brilliant - leading the way I say.  Problem - all the developers are giving the usual moan, saying its too expensive to do so.  Hence they have constructed their apartment blocks without the panels and hence they have no electrity connection.  Get this - the developers are demanding that the connections should be made and, a new phrase for you, the continuation of the opportunity to 'whiten black money without an extra duty for the next five years'.  Talk about having your cake and eat it, that's of course if they had power to bake it - ha!

Alongside.  Another article which demonstrates the hypocrisy of the Bangladeshi government.  It sounds like a scene from a John Wayne Western - cattle rustling in 21st century Bangladesh.  It happens everyday, with Bangladeshis smuggling cattle across the border from India illegally.    There are 'cattle running mafias' enjoying a lucrative business to meet the demand of Bangladeshi buyers for low cost meat.  The Bangladesh government in true denying any corruption exists style claims there is nothing to worry about or that there is any illegality taking place.  They call it 'cattle trade' and hence no proper resolution with the Indian Government.  Ironically the Indian Government doesn't want to legalise it fully.  A 'hot potato' it was called in the press.  A meat and veg story to me?!

So what's the  problem apart from being illegal.  The mafia use agents to smuggle the cattle across the border.  The smuggler will probably only get 500 rupees (about £5.50).

For that they are risking their life.  Mind you the Indian Border Security Force will try and take prisoners, but have now resorted to lethal action, as they are sustaining too many life threatening injuries.  Figures are bandied around, that over a 1000 Bangladeshis have lost their lives in the last decade.  The BSF claim, that the force was gunned down in 2010. In 2012 they claim 6 Bangladeshis died compared with a 100 injuries to its force.

The press is full of ying and yangs fully representing the country.  On one side the government is taking a very proactive approach with the environment and projecting that they are anti-corruption, then fail spectacularly at the next hurdle resorting back to status quo irrespective of what it is and more importantly - to the cost of life.  The politics of Bangladesh!

Messy Work

Life's a Mess 

Living the life of a trailing spouse is like living in one big Mess.   The origins of the word “mess” comes from the Old French word “mes”, meaning portion of food, which was taken from the Latin verb “mittere”, which means “to put” or “to send”, with the primary sense of “a meal put on the table.”

The meaning of “mess” then appeared in English during the 13th century, and was often used specifically with liquid or cooked dishes, like soup or porridge. And by the 15th century, the same word “mess” was used to describe any group of people who dined together. This is why the military dining hall today is called a “mess hall.

Now to give you some background knowledge - a Mess in military terms is a place where one eats, drinks, socialises etc. Now there are various types of mess's in the military depending on rank, regiment, nationality all with their own peculiar rules, traditions and modus operandi. In most ones's I have been in, you sign a 'chitty' which goes on account. In this instance the same process works but all in Madam's name of course, for whatever food / drinks you have consumed and she gets billed monthly. Brill!

Other clubs, you buy a book of vouchers and pay for your revelry. Nectar points haven't caught on here yet, but there maybe a new business opporchancity in future. In fact, the concept of paying anything by card just hasn't reached here yet. It is all cash, which has taken a bit of getting used to. Here you can be a millionaire in Taka terms quite easily and in fact it is worth less than £10k. 

It is not a wallet you need here but a bag for the wads of money you need to carry to buy anything. Even more confusing, you could have 3 or 4 different variations in terms of size and colour for the same denomination. God knows what would happen if you were colour blind! Buying groceries feels more like playing monopoly when you get to the counter!

Ironically, Bangladesh is one of the few countries that leads the world in using microfinance (community loans, savings etc) with community businesses. They are even starting to use their mobile phones to manage all their financial dealings etc - ahead of the game compared to G8 countries! In fact a forward thinking Bangladeshi bank - Grameen (yes you read it right - a forward thinking bank) invented the microfinance concept. So in the rural communities they have made a generational leap or two to do their business, whilst us 'colonials' languish in what we think is cutting edge. All in all when it comes to money or paying anything here - life's a mess!

Traffic

Traffic, More Traffic and Dhaka Traffic

The first few days in Dhaka as a TS (Trailing Spouse) are an onslaught on your senses.  The most in your face onslaught on so many levels is the traffic.  Now I have realised that all rules and regulations related to management of traffic do not apply here.  All perceptions of how traffic should work or how it works does not apply.  This is Dhaka Traffic!

Firstly, anything with wheels, has the right to be on and own all of the road.  Doesn’t matter what state your wheels are in, how many you have got, what speed you are travelling – they all feel they have a right to own the road.  Secondly, the only rule that seems to apply, if I am bigger than you, then I have priority.  The best way to look at it, is that its Darwinian’s natural selection process in action based on a hierarchal vehicle species and traffic system of survival. 

Thirdly, if your bell, and yes every bike has one, and they probably need serviced more often than the bike itself to your car horn – if it doesn’t work – you are on a suicide mission.  Make sure you have signed that will, made the appropriate arrangements as either two things will happen – death or … you don’t go anywhere, as you will be still stuck trying to get out of the driveway.

Fourthly, if you expect to go above 20mph – forget it.  Fifthly – there are pot holes and there are pot holes.  With the latter, having climbing equipment and ropes may be an essential item to have in your vehicle, as if you drive into them – you may end up at the centre of the earth – who knows.  People are still missing.

Sixthly – giving way, stopping at junctions, indicating, giving due consideration to cyclists or other road users etc just does not apply.  The whole concept of a highway code just hasn’t reached this part of the world.  I think there is a driving test, and if there is, who knows what it contains.  Oh and to cap it all – on most roads there is no paint to indicate any lanes, and if there was, why bother – no-one follows it.  Also there are few traffic lights, and if there are – they don’t work.  Starting to get the picture?

Add to the whole traffic ‘management’ dysfunctionality is the noise.  In some ways I haven’t noticed the pollution as much as the noise.  Bells ringing, horns tooting, which is quite amusing as bigger the vehicle, the deeper sounding the horn is.  There a rickshaws (three wheeled bikes used as taxis); tuk-tuks' – a mini version of a reliant robin and a lawnmower engine looking like a cage on wheels (used as a taxi), cars, SUV’s, lorries, busses (more often or not they have been in the wars with other buses and are held together with sticky tape and whatever else you can find) and and and… 

The next thing one notices, is that if you leave space in front of you in case the other driver brakes etc, as you would do being a considerate and careful driver – the space has gone!  One of the aforementioned list of vehicles will have taken it, or muscle in to take it.  Being a passenger is like being on a slow moving, pulse racing roller coaster.  If the mosquitoes don’t get you, the stress of driving in traffic will. 

So the next time you are stuck in your traffic jam, give some consideration to the TS in Dhaka.  What you are experiencing is just mild inconvenience, a bit like indigestion.  When you come to Dhaka - it’s a full on corony!

Be Prepared - Dib Dib

Be Prepared!

Life as a new TS (Trailing Spouse) is a mixture of what the **** and ‘yes Madam’.  Apart from being the dinner party diva (DPD), you have to be Mr Fixit.  Now, this isn’t so much of ‘when are you putting those shelves up darling’ as there are people to do that for you.  It is more of, we don’t have X and your job is to assimilate, plan, source and resolve the X request.  In a lot of cases this is required so the TS can then become the DPD.  Yes, that is another thing you learn when being a diplomatic TS – acronyms! 

Government bureaucracy seem to live by them.  Actually they operate by them.  I would love to ask them, what does the acronym stand for as I bet they can’t remember.  Anyhow, even despite being a good boy scout and being a member of the reserve armed forces, I just didn’t realise that my level of preparedness would have to be applied in Bangladesh and utilised accordingly.

Take for instance a plug.  Yep – the good ole plug for your bath or sink.  Now, in my wash bag for when I am traipsing around with the forces, is a sink plug.  All washrooms have sinks and even have running hot water now.  But they don’t have plugs.  I know why they don’t have plugs, to prevent flooding when some squaddie doesn’t give a monkey etc, but I do wonder what their water bill is like for waste.  Do they know or care?  Anyhow, I digress.  Hence why being prepared is essential – apart from the usual toiletries, first aid kits etc, one carries a plug in the wash bag.

The picture is set.  So arriving as a TS, Madam and I were duly escorted to our accommodation, whereupon entering the kitchen I had to laugh out loud, much to the consternation of Madam.  On further inspection throughout the house and the myriad of bathrooms there were either no plugs or the plugs that did exist, were designed for some sort of plughole which is unknown to any human being and thus is actually a nice ornament dangling from the tap, akin to some furry dice in your car if you are of that persuasion.

This is when I realised I had been transported into the land of government and associated accommodation.  Of course, I had failed to assume that diplomatic houses may run along the same lines of utilitarian forces sleeping and washing blocks and hence carrying a universal plug may be an essential part of ones equipment.  I have now realised that any travelling in this region a plug will need to be packed along with the anti bite cream, insect repellent etc.

Trying to find a suitable plug in Dhaka, is now becoming a major mission and is slowly creeping up to the top of the list.  Yes I could order them from home and get them sent out – that’s cheating.  Yes, I could get Madam to purchase some when she is back at HQ for those essential meetings which require travelling over 5000 miles for them, to then start coming back two days later – but that to me is being defeatist.

Therefore readers, I have chosen to accept this quest and undertake my very own mission impossible – getting the right plug in Dhaka - I will keep you updated.  So if you are coming out to this part of the world – please be plug prepared!

Our Democratic Right

Take for Granted

Different cultures are part of the diplomatic experience  so I am told.  I am open to that and the first big cultural experience a TS encounters in Dhaka, is that the week is different.  I don’t mean by what the days are filled with etc, though that can and will no doubt be an issue in due course.  No, I mean the way the week is structured.  Here a weekend falls on Friday and Saturday.

Friday is very much the prayer day for the Bangladeshis, resulting in little or no traffic on the roads on these days.  You probably find that most expats decide to run the gauntlet of the Dhaka roads on this day, and feel very proud for the very fact  that they have done this.  Wimps!

Anyhow, when you reach Sunday, it is the equivalent of a Monday and can be quite confusing.  One forgets that a Tuesday is actually the middle of the working week and Thursday is our Friday.  Confused?  It is a bit like the clocks going back or forward.  I always remembered as a kid, when the clocks changed the dog would look at his bowl to either say why are you feeding me now, or why aren’t you feeding me now.

Never mind.  When Madam came home and said she would have to work on Saturday (our Sunday) and would I like to come along, I thought oh oh – TSD (Trailing Spouse Duty) kicking in me thinks and not in the working week – not good.  On this occasion, I didn’t mind, as it was to view the recording of Sanglap – a BBC style Question Time programme. 

Now thinking it was all to take place in a studio, I thought it is something a bit different – why not.  In fact they had constructed a studio in the middle of an old fort called Lalbagh Fort in Old Town Dhaka – amazing.  The main problem was that the show had to take place in the evening due to it being a public space and that three mosques surrounded the fort, communicating at sunset their various versions of a call to prayer all at the same time creating this loud speaker cacophony.  The noise abatement society would have had kittens.

Now why do you ask was all this taking place to produce a political programme and why was the BBC involved?  But after seeing it, I realised we, … as in Brits, … take our democratic right for granted and the opportunity to question politics and more importantly politicians.  I’ll explain.

In Bangladesh, there are only two major political parties who are at each others throats.  Any initiatives created by one party in government, will be stopped when the opposition gets in power.  The whole country is in a Doctor Whoesque space time continuum, with half finished infrastructure projects, pet political projects and little movement on essential components which the Bangladeshi population actually need to survive.  The opportunity to question the political process and hold to task, if one can here, in a moderated constructive way does not exist –hence Sanglap.

It is being produced by BBC Media Action in association with Bangla BBC World Service and the local TV Channel I.  It looked and felt liked BBC’s Question Time.  In this case the moderator wasn’t David Dimbleby, but the presenter on the Bangla BBC World Service.  The current Bangladeshi Prime Minister allowed her Home Affairs minister to take part, because of the BBC involvement.  Supposedly any type of political talk show here ends up in a punch up and thus no politicians take part!

Although there was BBC staff from the UK for the first few shows, they were training up the local staff to produce future episodes up until the elections and hence their involvement.  A moderated programme entitling people to question their politicians on issues and politics is a revelation.  Hopefully, Bangladeshis watching Sanglap, can become fully informed before they head to the ballot box in 12 months time to exercise their democratic expression.  The last time Sanglap took place in 2010 it drew a weekly audience of over 25 million people and became highly respected by all communities - international development in action some may say!.

Conversely, this has made me realise that in the UK, we take these programmes for granted.  We take for granted we have a culture that allows us to question our political representatives and are able to exercise a democratic right unlike countries and in this case - the people of Bangladesh.

Respect

Its Not Duty. Its Respect

So less than 12 hours in the country, there I am suited and booted in a minibus starting a 3 hour journey on ‘roads’ and I use the word loosely – more like rough tracks which have occasionally seen some asphalt, and that’s just in the fringes of the capital city before we are en route to the rural parts of Bangladesh.  The mission (and it felt like one) was to attend the remembrance service at Comilla where the commonwealth graves reside.  

Now when Madam, a few days prior to this taking place and I was over 5000 miles away, suggested that she thought it would be good to attend, I went not a problem.  Now I realised that being a TS (Trailing Spouse), there will be a number of things I will have to ‘dutifully do’ such as attend events, never mind doing the shopping, keeping the house (what an old fashioned phrase), organising and probably cooking for the endless round of dinner parties and managing the staff – more on that one to come. 

In other words when Madam says, one jumps!  When she asks in the morning before going to work ‘what are you doing today darling’, god help you if you don’t have any answer.  So far saying ‘Stuff’ works – not sure for how long though.

Anyhow, so when Madam said it would be good if we were there, but I fully understand that you have just entered a new country to a new life, in a different time zone with 6 hours of difference and in temperatures of 25C+ as well as all the tiny things that fly and bite – one realised we were already attending.  Now this is where the role of the TS digresses slightly.  I didn’t feel it was my duty to attend - to accompany and support Madam. I wanted to attend!

There is one thing which the British leads the world – remembering those that have given their life to protect others.  The Commonwealth War Graves Commission tends the graves of all those British and importantly, those nations in the commonwealth that helped in whatever action that has taken place.  So on arrival at Comilla located close to the Myanmar border (for those of you whose geography is not up to scratch, in old money - Burma) there was this stunning oasis with neatly ordered white crosses, surrounded by tendered gardens.  In the middle of this serenity was a small hill which stood a simple monument remembering those who had fallen.

Now why Comilla you ask to locate the memorial – I asked.  It was the location of the field hospital during the Burma campaign, due to the proximity to the border and thus the most appropriate place for the memorial and graves to lie.  A simple service, led by the British High Commissioner took place with representatives from a number of Commonwealth High Commissions and other Missions standing in silence, followed by the laying of a wreath representing their nation.  Simple, beautiful and moving.

The journey back to Dhaka, took longer and even was more harrowing, as by that time, the Bangladeshi population had conducted their prayers and were on the roads.  If you are a budding stock car racer – this is the place to learn.  Want to learn evasive driving – this is the place to learn.  However, in some ways this was all insignificant to what took place earlier.  I wanted to be there and remember and believed very much I was not there for duty.  It was for respect.

The Start of Something New

Baptism of Fire

Quick recap – the other half has been posted to Dhaka (the one in Bangladesh, formerly part of India and Pakistan, for all those who failed their geography exam and having a big war in 1971 becoming an indepenent country on 15^th December 1971, for those who failed their history exam) on behalf of a G8 Govt saving the worlds poor and stuff like that, and now only responds to being called ‘Madam’ on all levels of communication.  So, with this in mind and accepting my fate as a true Scot, I have decided to join her and have now been given the affectionate title of ‘Trailing Spouse’ (TS) as they are all known out here and everywhere else in the global diplomatic community.  Thankfully the male TS community have come up with their own acronym STUD (Spouse Trailing Under Duress) – I leave it up to you which is more appropriate depending on the situation.

So Madam left about 6 weeks before I was due to join her, leaving basically everything for me to do – first role of a TS me thinks.  This not only involved the sorting out of the house for the packers to arrive and deploy their own philosophy, packing one’s life up and placing in storage, but also trying to deal with the unintuitive bureaucracy and lack of information, now titled the MIS (missing information service).  If they could do qualifications in deciphering information that does exist but isn’t present or vice versa, then I reckon I should be on my way to my second degree. 

Another way to describe it is, and he may have written the manual, Donald Rumsfeld's view – ‘There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don't know we don't know.’  After the second degree, within a year I could have a lecturing job in it.  No doubt this subject will be revisited time and time again. 

In addition to the hullabaloo of packing up the flat; having a wisdom tooth out so I was ‘dentally cleared’ before joining Madam – an excellent example of MIS, where these requirements had to be fulfilled before joining the post, but isn’t actually written down anywhere with no paperwork to be authorised or supporting information to be digested; there was pandering to my brother’s whims of what was needing done in my property before he could move in, which hinged on the balance of the stressful situation on whether he could get cable TV or not and if it was in HD – I wish my needs were that simple; and generally walking around in a daze muttering OMG in between popping pain killers.

Running in parallel was trying to facilitate clients needs.  Being an ‘entrepreneurial’ sort of chappie, I had set-up my own business and was one of the few small pillars of the community contributing to the rebuilding of the country, within reason of course as duly advised by my accountant.  So there was this crazy situation of me sorting out the final things for a conference whilst being ensconced in the kitchen, about the size of a wardrobe, with the laptop perched precariously on the gas hob, mobile phone permanently in my hand and using a redundant packing box as the seat / desk etc whilst the packers were wrapping and packing for air freight around me into 72 boxes.  That is Madam and I’s life now 72 boxes – a bit odd when it is viewed like that – more later.

The final hours before departure was the stressful part of trying to stay within one’s weight limit for baggage, but ensuring I had enough clothes and stuff to live with, working on the basis that the 72 boxes may not arrive for some weeks.  This again was not as straightforward as it should be, because all eventualities had to be considered – business attire, formal, smart but ‘cas’, sports, lounging etc.  Add to that some patisserie essentials and the ‘office’.  The thought of that first gin and tonic on the plane never felt more appealing, knowing that the initial TS baptism had started and paused for it only to begin full on over 5000 miles away in temperatures of 25C+ - hellish ain’t it!